


Four Birthdays

by alpacatracks



Category: Fire Emblem: Fuukasetsugetsu | Fire Emblem: Three Houses
Genre: Byleth Birthday Bash, Edeleth as children, Established Relationship, F/F, Fluff, Long-Term Relationship(s), Old Married Couple, Rated T for mild sexiness, The Beagles also show up, Tooth-Rotting Fluff, and old ladies, how long has it been since I last wrote fic again?
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-19
Updated: 2020-09-19
Packaged: 2021-03-08 03:26:59
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,860
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26548963
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/alpacatracks/pseuds/alpacatracks
Summary: Byleth had never been one for celebrating birthdays. But when Edelgard enters her life, everything changes.
Relationships: Edelgard von Hresvelg & My Unit | Byleth, Edelgard von Hresvelg/My Unit | Byleth
Comments: 11
Kudos: 86





	Four Birthdays

When people asked her how old she was, Byleth never knew the answer.

She knew she was getting older, because the clothes that had once swamped her were now too short and her face was less chubby, less _cute_ , than it one had been. One recent morning, she’d woken up in some nameless inn to find blood on her sheets, and although she hadn’t told anyone, she knew what it meant. But the number of years she’d been alive for? She measured her age in the number of bandit kills she notched up, not how many times she’d travelled around the sun. That was an achievement worth celebrating.

She knew that she must’ve had a birthday: it was around the time when the leaves on the trees started turning shades of red and gold and, depending on where they were, the temperature ranged from mild to toe-numbingly cold. Jeralt never celebrated his birthday either, and she was certain that no one in the universe knew how old he was. 

Around once a year, though, he’d buy or even cook her something sweet. Nothing fancy. But the important thing was that he’d _tried_ , especially Jeralt never usually made much of an effort when it came to cooking. 

She’d dealt with the same question from the rest of the Blade Breakers before. “How old are you now, kid? You must be, what, eleven? Twelve?”

“I don’t know.” She gave the same response, and they’d laugh every time, as if they didn’t believe that she was actually serious.

After successfully taking out a crew of bandits in a nearby village, they’d set up camp in the woods. The sun had disappeared behind the treetops, and she knew they must’ve been somewhere in the north, because it was cold, and when the wind shook the trees she had to pull her cloak around her tightly to stop herself from shivering.

“I’m going for a walk,” she announced, after she’d finished putting up her tent.

“Yeah well, be back before sundown,” Jeralt said, not looking up from the campfire. “You never know. There might even be some leftovers if you get back early enough.”

Their camp was on high ground, but eventually the land sloped downwards until she reached the edge of a marsh, packed with reeds and tiny insects that milled around the water’s surface. She swatted a few away. Aside from the buzz of tiny wings and the whisper of the wind as it teased the branches, it was quiet. But she wasn’t alone. She could see a figure across the water, moving between the trees. 

_A girl._

Byleth squinted, wondering if it was one of the kids from the village in which they’d taken down the bandits. But this wasn’t some ordinary village child; this girl was dressed in the type of clothes that she’d only seen rich merchants or nobles wearing, ornately embroidered and made from fine fabrics. Her dress was crimson, her hair long and brown and her eyes - were they _violet?_ She was too far away to tell for certain, the water creating a barrier between them.

For a moment, they locked eyes, and the girl’s lips moved, as if she was about to say something. But then the silence was interrupted by the sound of boots hitting the forest floor. 

The soldiers appeared a few seconds later. Byleth had seen plenty of soldiers on her travels: these ones had traces of blue on their armour, and a couple of them were draped in thick furs, as if they’d travelled from somewhere cold.

“This is the second time she’s tried it. Last time she didn’t get very far. But she’s probably wised up now.”

“She probably just wants to get back to the Empire. Wouldn’t you? Imagine being ripped away from your family like that.”

“Yeah well, her uncle and mother’s orders are to bring her back. She’s not going to get to Enbarr on foot anyway.”

“You! Kid!”

It took Byleth a couple of seconds before she realised that they were talking to her.

“Have you seen a girl around here? Red dress, long hair?”

Byleth looked back across the water, beyond the forest of reeds, where the trees curved downwards and their boughs touched the water’s surface. Part of her had expected to see the girl staring back at her, but she had vanished.

“No,” she lied. “I haven’t seen anyone come through here.”

The soldier sighed heavily. “Told you she wouldn’t have gone this way,” he said. “She can’t swim, if you believe what her mother says. She’ll have stuck to high ground.”

They traipsed away on foot, murmuring amongst themselves in disappointment.

Byleth sat by the water’s edge. At one point, she tried dipping her foot in, but the cold made her shudder, and when the last trace of sunlight had disappeared she decided to head back to camp. She took the long route back, listening to the comforting sounds of the forest - the crackle of twigs beneath her feet and the distant call of the creatures that only appeared at night. There was something about forests that she found soothing. But she still couldn’t shake the image of the girl by the water from her mind.

Only smouldering embers remained where the campfire had once been, telling her that she must’ve been gone for a while. The others had retreated to their tents, which didn’t surprise her - it had been a long day of fighting, drinking (for the grown-ups, not her), and her own eyelids felt heavy. She undid the ties of her tent and was about to slip inside when she noticed the box.

It was white and tied with a green ribbon, which Byleth undid quickly. Inside the box was a small cake, decorated with green icing and topped with berries. There was no way Jeralt or any of the Blade Breakers, for all their cooking talents, could’ve made this themselves. She recalled seeing a bakery back in the village, and she felt a flush of warmth: not just from the sight of the cake, but from the small, handwritten note that accompanied it.

_Enjoy the cake, kid._

\-----

Navigating the academy’s various customs and traditions had been difficult. It was three months since she’d started teaching, and Byleth still couldn’t escape the feeling that she was being judged. She’d learned how to move her lips so convincingly during hymn recital that even Seteth could no longer tell that she was just mouthing the words instead of singing them.

But the thing she’d become least accustomed to was the tradition of marking her students’ birthdays.

“Oh, you don’t have to buy them anything expensive,” Professor Manuela had explained. “With all due respect, it’s not as if you can buy the noble brats anything that they don’t already have.” She’d sighed and continued to stir her tea, which had a strange, bitter aroma, as if she’d snuck some other secret ingredient in. “Pick them some flowers from the greenhouse. Or invite them for tea in the gardens. I’m sure your students would die for the chance to spend some quality time with their beloved professor.”

Flowers seemed impersonal, so she’d decided to treat them to tea in the gardens instead. It had been less awkward than she’d expected. Petra’s birthday had just passed, and during their teatime the princess had preferred to use her as a medium for practising her language skills, which hadn’t bothered Byleth at all.

Several nights later, she was woken by the sound of relentless banging on her bedroom door. Groggily, she pulled herself into a seated position. It was almost pitch black in her room. Who was knocking on her door in the middle of the night?

If the banging hadn’t been startling enough, the sight of Bernadetta in the doorway was even more disconcerting.

“You’re out of your room,” Byleth said. “And it’s the middle of the night.”

“Y-you have to come with me, professor!” Bernadetta practically choked the words out, and Byleth couldn’t tell whether it was because she’d sprinted all the way here or simply because she was terrified. “To the dining hall! There’s an emergency! A really really _bad_ emergency!”

Byleth felt a stab of unease. “What kind of emergency?”

“Just...an emergency, OK!? You have to come with me right- wait, what are you doing!?”

She had instinctively reached for her sword, but upon seeing Bernadetta’s horrified expression, Byleth let go of the hilt. “You said it was an emergency, didn’t you?” 

“It’s not that kind of emergency, professor! Not the kind where you have to fight anyone! Just come with me, OK?”

The walk from her quarters to the dining hall was, thankfully, a short one. The windows of the monastery weren’t lit by the usual glow of candles, and aside from the faint starlight, the grounds were cloaked in darkness. She hovered behind Bernadetta as the doors to the dining hall crept open, but the room appeared dark and empty.

“There’s no one here,” she said, feeling increasingly skeptical. “This isn’t a prank, is it?” 

“What!? No! Please professor- just go inside OK!?”

She took a cautious step over the threshold, and as she did, light pooled into the room, and the sound of eight voices calling out in unison greeted her.

_“Surprise!”_

Byleth reached for her sword, only to remember that she’d left it in her room. But it didn’t matter, because the faces in the room were friendly: her students. The light that now flooded the room came from Hubert, who had conjured some sort of fire spell, the flames dancing in the palm of his hand.

“Happy birthday, professor!” Something hard collided with her back: that was Caspar’s attempt at a congratulatory pat on the pack. “You didn’t think we’d forget your birthday now, did you?”

The shock was gradually subsiding, replaced by a warmth that even the cold night air couldn’t kill. “How did you know it was my birthday?” she asked.

“Oh, it was easy really,” said Linhardt. “We badgered your father so many times until he got bored and just told us.”

“But don’t worry, professor,” said Caspar with a hearty grin. “Not everyone knows. Just us.”

“All of you…” Byleth found herself struggling to piece the words together. “You really didn’t have to do this, you know-”

“But you have been bringing us great happiness for our days of birth, professor,” interjected Petra. “So we are thinking it is only right that we are wishing you a happy birthday too!”

“She’s right, professor.” Dorothea flashed a smile in her direction. “Anyway, it’s Edie you should be thanking. This was all her idea.”

Byleth hadn’t spotted her at first. She had been standing at the edge of the room, separate from the rest of the group. “It was the least we could do. Especially considering how much you’ve done for us already.” Edelgard took a step forward, joining the rest of the group, and her and Byleth’s eyes met. “Happy birthday, my teacher. I hope the next year brings as many exciting changes as the last.”

“Thank you,” said Byleth, the warmth in her chest burning brighter. “It means a lot to me. All of you getting out of bed so late you could celebrate-”

“Well, it was the only time we knew the dining hall would be empty,” said Ferdinand. “Anyway, you haven’t even seen your present yet, professor.”

“My what?”

She heard a clatter from the kitchen, followed by a shriek so high pitched that it was almost in the realm where only the monastery cats and dogs could hear it. Bernadetta staggered out of the kitchen a few seconds later, clutching a silver platter, upon which sat a cake, dripping with icing, with a single candle standing in its centre.

“In some places it’s traditional to have candles on a birthday cake,” explained Edelgard. “One for each year of your age. Although seeing that we don’t know how old you are, my teacher, we decided it’d be safest to go with just one.”

“And in some places it’s traditional to make a wish when you blow the candles out,” said Dorothea excitedly, ignoring Hubert’s mutterings about _nonsense traditions_. “But you can’t tell anyone. Otherwise it won’t come true.”

Byleth paused, watching as the candle flickered in the dim light. “So I just shut my eyes and make up a wish?”

“That’s right.”

“And be quick about it, professor,” said Hubert dryly. “I suspect it will only be a matter of minutes before the knights come snooping around and put an end to the festivities.”

Byleth watched the dancing flame, tiny droplets of wax threatening to drip onto the surface of the cake. She took one more look at the smiling faces around her before she closed her eyes.

And made her wish.

\--------

The war had ended, but her dreams she could still see and hear the fighting. The clash of metal against metal, the screams of the wounded, the image of a city ablaze.

The place where she’d got her heartbeat back.

Byleth was still getting used to it, the gentle rhythm in her chest. At night she could hear it beating, the sound irrepressible, like a candle that she couldn’t blow out. She’d wake after dreams like these - it didn’t feel right to call them nightmares, as she woke up not feeling fear, but a vast emptiness - and feel the soft thud of her heartbeat.

Edelgard was asleep next to her. It was rare to see the Emperor - the woman she _loved_ \- entangled in such a restful, unbroken slumber. Beyond the palace walls, the city was asleep too, its shops and taverns having shut for the night. But then she heard it: the distant sound of the city bells, marking the arrival of a new hour. Byleth counted the sound of each bong: _one, two_ , all the way up to _eleven, twelve_.

Without warning, Edelgard leapt out of bed, flinging the covers to one side. The sudden movement forced Byleth from her doze into fully-awake mode, and the soft pulse of her heartbeat was replaced by a fast-paced thud.

“What’s going on?”

Edelgard gave her a wicked smile. “It’s time, my love.”

“Time for what?” Byleth felt a crippling unease as Edelgard cast a fire spell (that hidden talent in reason had finally come in use), before lighting the remaining candles in the imperial bedchamber, bathing the room in a radiant glow.

Byleth squinted, her eyes growing used to the sudden influx of light. “Please tell me what this is about,” she said, suppressing a groan.

“Well,” said Edelgard, perching on the end of their bed. “There’s an extremely important matter that I need to speak with you about. One so highly classified that I can’t discuss it with any of my other advisers.”

“Not even Hubert?” said Byleth, feeling increasingly perplexed. “It’s not another trade agreement, is it?”

“Oh no. It’s far more important than that. Well, you could call it a trade agreement of sorts. Although it’s a bit one-sided. Because I have something to give you, but I don’t expect anything in return.”

“You have something to give me? At this time in the morning?” Byleth wondered if she was still trapped in some hyper-realistic dream. “Why?”

Edelgard tilted her head to one side. “You don’t remember what date it is?”

What date was it? They were in the Horsebow Moon, she remembered that much, but since she had gone to live with Edelgard in the palace, all the days had melted into one. “I don’t remember,” she mumbled.

“It’s your birthday, Byleth. You may have forgotten, but I didn’t.”

Was it? Being asleep for five years, only to be thrown headlong into a war upon waking, had skewed Byleth’s perception of time. She didn’t even know how old she was.

“I wanted to give you something. I’ve been working on it for a while, but I wasn’t ready to show it to you until now…” Edelgard trailed off, her cheeks a warm shade of pink.

“You didn’t have to get me a present, El,” insisted Byleth. Then she felt something in her memory stir, as if the pieces of a puzzle were slotting together. “Wait. Unless it’s-”

She watched as Edelgard reached over into the drawer of her bedside table and pulled out a wooden frame. Inside the frame was her face. Well, an artist’s - El’s - impression of her face. This was the portrait that she’d been working on in secret. She’d caught a glimpse of it back at the monastery during the war, and she smiled, recalling how Edelgard had been so embarrassed at the thought of her seeing it.

“Wow, El. This really is exquisite.” Exquisite wasn’t quite the right word, but it was still a valiant effort. “You’ve really captured my likeness.”

“I’m sorry that it’s not much,” said Edelgard, her blushes intensifying. “I really should’ve bought you something nice. Especially since I’ve missed your last five birthdays.”

“Well, that was hardly your fault,” said Byleth. “Besides, you don’t need to give me anything else. You’re the only thing I need. Well, you and a portrait painted by you, of course..”

Edelgard shifted, creating creases in her nightdress. “Well,” she said, creeping forward on the bed until their faces were almost touching. “There is something else I could give you. Unless you’d rather go back to sleep…” She reached out and placed a hand on Byleth’s arm.

Byleth’s heartbeat, which had settled back into its usual lull, began to pick up again, as if Edelgard’s touch had injected her with electricity. “Really? And what did you have in mind?”

The last thing she heard before she descended into sweet bliss was Edelgard whispering in her ear.

“Happy birthday, my love.”

\-----

She stopped counting the years after a while. There was no point: it was like watching a ticking clock, each cycle of its hands drawing her closer to the end. What mattered wasn’t how long she had been here for, or how long she had left, but the fact that she was _here_.

She had watched as the lines on her grew deeper and silver hairs on her head appeared: one or two at first, until the last traces of teal had gone. _“You’re hair’s as white as mine now,”_ Edelgard had teased. 

They’d left the city behind decades before. At first they’d gone travelling; her memory was filled with images from their time in the cold wastes of Albinea and the lush forests of Brigid. Eventually they’d settled back in Fódlan, on an untouched patch of coast in the south where the summers were stiflingly hot and even the winters were mild. It took Byleth a few summers to get used to the heat, but the place grew on her eventually. She’d even taught Edelgard to swim in the calm waters of the bay near their home.

Neither of them had expected her to live this long. They’d lost Lysithea several years back, and both of them had feared that Edelgard, with her condition, would leave too early. But time crept on, and Edelgard was still by her side. She eventually learned to shut those feelings away, to stop spending each day worrying that she’d wake up and find that Edelgard was no longer there. The fear hadn’t completely gone, but it wasn’t a constant presence in her life either.

Eventually the steps that led from their house on the cliff down to the beach below became too difficult to climb, so Byleth preferred to spend her time in the garden instead, watching the waves below as they crawled up the sand. Edelgard still went down there every day at first, to skim stones across the water or collect shells, but eventually she stopped too as her body gave in to age. It didn’t matter, because they had everything they needed up in their cliffside home: a garden where they grew fruit and vegetables; a pond with a steady supply of fish; chickens; and a pair of goats that Edelgard had proudly christened Hubert and Ferdinand. Byleth spent a lot of her time fishing in the pond, while Edelgard painted and tended to the garden.

She never thought about what the next day would bring. Every minute she had left with Edelgard was precious, so she learned to take each day as it came.

Byleth woke one morning to the sound of rain hammering on the windows. She rolled over, expecting to find Edelgard asleep beside her, but her side of the bed lay empty. That in itself wasn’t cause for concern, but it was still so early, the morning light dim and muted.

She lowered herself out of bed, the floor icy cold beneath her feet. Wearily, she put on her glasses, the world crystallising around her as she did, and walked over to the door. The house was eerily silent; she wondered at first whether Edelgard had gone for a walk, but the torrents of rain descending outside made her less convinced.

When she entered the living room, she expected to find Edelgard sitting in her armchair. Her wife was nowhere to be seen, but the huge canvas standing in the centre of the room immediately captured her attention instead.

It was a painting. Or, more accurately, it was a series of paintings, each one telling a story that had unfolded over decades: the two of them and their friends back at the monastery, enjoying someone’s birthday celebration together. The Black Eagle Strike Force battling the Immaculate One in the blazing streets of Fhirdiad. Their wedding at the cottage in the country, its garden overflowing with flowers. The imperial palace, both of them seated on their respective thrones. Their travels around Fódlan and beyond, across beaches and forests and fields. And finally, two white-haired women standing on a beach, looking out at an endless sea.

 _Their life together_ , their paths permanently intertwined ever since she’d chosen Edelgard in the Holy Tomb.

The sound of Edelgard’s voice distracted her. “Do you know what day it is, my love?”

Byleth turned to face her, ignoring the tightness in her throat and the prickle of tears in her eyes. She knew the date. _Twentieth of the Horsebow Moon_. Her birthday.

“El, how did you, _when_ did you-”

“I noticed that you rarely go up to the attic. I thought it’d be the perfect place to set up a temporary art studio.” Edelgard smiled, placing a gentle hand on her wife’s cheek.

“This must’ve taken you weeks to complete. El, you really didn’t have to.”

“Oh, stop it. It’s my wife’s eightieth birthday. As if I wasn’t going to get you a big present.”

The thought lingered in Byleth’s mind: this could be my last birthday with you. She knew that Edelgard thought the same, even if neither of them would say it aloud. There were so many words unspoken, so many things she wanted to say to communicate how loved, how _grateful_ , she felt for their many years together, but there were only three that seemed right.

“I love you.”

“I love you too, Byleth.”

**Author's Note:**

> So...it's been months (literally months!) since I last wrote fic, and I've been shamefully neglecting my longfic. I've been through a lot of changes over the past year which means I haven't felt motivated or able to write anywhere near as much as I'd like to. But I've recently discovered my love for FE3H (especially Edeleth) and I couldn't not write something for Byleth's Birthday Bash. I hope to write more from now on.
> 
> I hope you enjoyed the fic. Comments and kudos are greatly appreciated! <3


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